Morgan decided he liked Lyra's elaboration, humming softly in a satisfied sort of way. The detail about her potential career choice was new and mildly interesting, but not terribly surprising. She moved well of course, but it was obviously more than simple skill. Some would call it talent, but the young Sith called it passion and hard work.
"Without a doubt," was the simple reply, a tap of his cigarra knocking ash again into the tray. Golden eyes turned to the side on their own, looking over at Lyra. They watched her with a keen intensity, the same way they watched everything. Morgan put out the remains of his cigarra in the tray after a moment and he turned fully to face her, one leg crossed over the other.
His head tilted a little to the left as if to view her from a different angle, face pensive and marked by a slight frown.
Morgan stood, tired of the relatively uncomfortable dining chair. He stepped over to one of the beds and hit a control nearby that caused the futon to unfold into something like a couch, and sank into it contentedly. Much better.
Quite casually, slender fingers delicately picked up the hallikset and cradled it left-handed. He hummed softly to himself, even and pitch perfect. Then he plucked a string, doing so at least twice for each as he ensured it was properly tuned, slightly adjust the knobs atop the instrument.
"You carry something heavy?"
"Without a doubt," was the simple reply, a tap of his cigarra knocking ash again into the tray. Golden eyes turned to the side on their own, looking over at Lyra. They watched her with a keen intensity, the same way they watched everything. Morgan put out the remains of his cigarra in the tray after a moment and he turned fully to face her, one leg crossed over the other.
His head tilted a little to the left as if to view her from a different angle, face pensive and marked by a slight frown.
Morgan stood, tired of the relatively uncomfortable dining chair. He stepped over to one of the beds and hit a control nearby that caused the futon to unfold into something like a couch, and sank into it contentedly. Much better.
Quite casually, slender fingers delicately picked up the hallikset and cradled it left-handed. He hummed softly to himself, even and pitch perfect. Then he plucked a string, doing so at least twice for each as he ensured it was properly tuned, slightly adjust the knobs atop the instrument.
"You carry something heavy?"
@GABA